


Tales of the Unsundered, the Seventh, and More

by mementomoe



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Agender Azem, Contains spoilers to 5.3, F/M, FFxivWrite2020, Female Warrior of Light - Freeform, Named Warrior of light, Past Haurchefant/WoL, Tales from the Shadows (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 11,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26252914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mementomoe/pseuds/mementomoe
Summary: FFXIVWrite 2020 dump. Also on my FFXIV Tumblr
Relationships: Alisaie Leveilleur & G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Azem & Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Lue-Reeq & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Lyna & G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Lyna & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Tataru Taru & Warrior of Light
Kudos: 19





	1. Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrites2020 Day 1: Crux

Terpsichore wakes. They weren’t certain they would when that beast gained the upper hand.

How could they, after all. Like any others could–

“Ah, good,” a voice says. “Hadn’t expected you to wake so soon, but my brother did. He said something about you making weapons of light.”

They push their arms back, but a hand rests on her shoulder. “Don’t try, not yet. Even if you woke up sooner than I would’ve doesn’t mean you’re done healing.”

“Just wanted to sit. Look around. Where am I?” The location is not like the walls of Amaurot, Thick with the aether that created them, rich colors. It looks almost as if someone made them by hand. Is that a thing? Others of their kind don’t do this?

“Our home. Me and my brother and a couple friends live here. Run a farm. One says she thinks you asked her about that cockatrice you tried to face. No one can take it alone. Why’d you try?”

“Thought I could. I’ve always been good at creation, and I know how to fight.” And read the densest texts, and can even see souls. While they can’t see the person caring for her in this position, wafts of and orange come into their view.

“I’ll say. From the story I heard, you did some real damage to that nasty bird. It’s been bothering all the farms here. No one knows who made it, or why. We’re not exactly the best at creation. Not to mention Amaurot doesn’t take these problems hard.”

“But what of Azem?”

“Azem’s a myth,” their caretaker says. “No one knows what they look like, or if they even exist. Some friends think they saw them once, but nothing changed, so I doubt that’s the case.”

Is that what people think about their position? The position of the Wanderer may not be as loved as others in written history, but they’ve read tales of fictional Azems who did so many other things. They wanted to be like those, and not the mere reporter Lahabrea told them they were.

“I see,” they say. There’s not much they can do, and they don’t want others to know who they are. “You don’t want me to move under my own power, but,” and it hurt for them to say this. “Could you help me sit up. I want to look around.”

“My brother, Hermes, would probably object, but if you’d be more comfortable.”

Their watcher puts a hand behind their back and lifts it.

They smile and offer something to them once they’re seated. “Sorry, we had to remove this. Y’sound fancy, friend. Are you from the Capitol?”

Terpsichore takes a few seconds to realize it’s her mask. Azem’s mask. They take it and put it on. “Yes, yes. I suppose you could say that.”

“Not many Amaurotines choose to leave from what I hear. Why’d you do that. Also, do all of them like to make their masks colorful?”

“I have a job. It takes me places,” they say. “And uh… you can say that. About masks. I know a few with non-white masks.”

Their watcher smiles. “Well, I figure wherever you were going when you decided to help us will have to wait. Maybe my brother, friends and I can help once you’re healed. Hermes is good with healing. Mostly potions, but they can sometimes do a thing with his aura that returns vitality.”

That’s not a common skill.

“Hermes is probably one of a million in Amaurot, no?”

Terpsichore shakes their head. “I’ve heard of it before, but he’s more one _in_ a million.” But how could others have that skill.

“Ah, forgive me, friend, we’ve been talking so long and names haven’t been exchanged.” He pats his chest and smiles. “Pan.”

They offer a hand but their shoulder aches. They pull it back. “Terpsichore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terpsichore is my take on Azem, at least for my WoLs. Among other things, they usually won't let on what post they have. And their official mask as Azem is almost identical to any Amaurotine mask, except it was a red color that only shows up when the light hits it at certain angles.
> 
> I'm tempted this year to focus on Azem, but may do bits with Mneme (Seventhsona) or my WoL, Lin. We'll see how the keywords lead.


	2. Careful Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite 2020 Day 2: Sway

Terpsichore won’t wear a mask, not any longer. It would be one thing to blend in if they stayed in Amaurot.

They weren’t going to do that. Not after turning in the Mask of Azem, rejecting the role given to them.

While they were known for their temporary creations, imbuing the fragility of focus to enhance other strengths, they did make several permanent ones. There were times permanence was needed.

They close their eyes and tap their earring. Say a few careful key words then speaks up. “H-hello?”

They hear at least five of their friends speak up. Pan catching the tenseness of their voice. Hemera chatting about new adventure she has. Hermes trying to quiet others.

“If possible, get away from Amaurot.”

“Well, I’m always far from the city,” Pan says.

Others then give their locations. Of the twenty four called, only seven are far from the city.

“Amaurot isn’t safe any longer. Leave. Don’t all use the same exit. Be careful.”

“Teri, can you tell us why you’re like this? Maybe you can summon us if you’re worried?”

Terpsichore can’t focus. “It’s-- It’s a lot. I can’t say it easy, but the Council does not speak for the people any longer. If it did at all. As for summoning, I can’t. I’m not far enough myself. They’ll notice.”

They start running. Amaurot feels too tall, with the spires and towers on their back. They can barely weave a simple incantation of quickness. They’d need an hour to bring even seven of those in the the town to their location.”

“Please, how do you know they don’t speak for us. You always know so much, but you’re--”

“I have connections. I grew up with Emet-Selch.”

it hurts to call him that, but he chose his path. He tried to find a middle ground between killing people and not killing people. They’ve seen the start of this change, knows there has to be a better way. Hades is dead as far as they’re concerned.

“You know Emet-Selch?”

Terpsichore hisses. “Not so loud. You don’t know who’s listening. Lahabrea probably has already started to put his plan in motion.”

Their voice is tense, both from the enchanted sprint, but also from all the fear they have. The more Terpsichore learned of the world, cared for people, the more they saw the Speaker as the untrustworthy, self-serving autocrat he was.

And the worse their interractions became.

They may have sway of these people.

“Meet me at Pan and Hermes’s farm. They’re far enough away I can speak freer. When I get there, I’ll try to summon you all.”

With those words, they end the call.

However, they weren’t the only one who had sway over people.

Seven arrived safely, and when they finally could cast the summoning spell, only three were capable of answering the call.

The rest, as they were told, were captured... somehow. Placed somewhere that they didn’t know, so couldn’t call to.

Two days later, the eleven in the farm heard that the first sacrifice to Zodiark began.


	3. Passing Muster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Day 3 of FFXIVWrite 2020: Muster

“So, what do you think?” Lin twirls around in a new outfit. Her Red Mage robes were torn in the fight with Elidibus, though did not seem to think about new armor until after a return to the source, and a long vacation

G’raha vaguely recalls the jacket worn from one of the times he was on the verge of a breakthrough, and she left to take care of other duties, only to return in clothes of that odd hyperweave again. It takes her characteristic rich, dark green quite dyes quite well.

The boots are the same make as the ones she wore before, though she wears leather trousers instead of the quarterslops of before. Her gloves are shorter, with an oriental design on them.

“I miss the robes from before,” he says. “The sleeves the bow. I’m certain you could remake it again if you wish.”

She shrugs, but wraps her arms around him. “I know. I’ll miss it too. My time in Norvrandt was like a dream sometimes, and it took me away from the war with Garlemald. A dead emperor doesn’t mean more than a respite. Hells, some Legatuses -- Legati? -- are making power plays. I asked the Marchers to take care of this weapon before I went to check on you and the Scions. However, it’s part of a project with many, and there may be another ready. They turned it around on me, and insist _their contact_ wants no one other than me to meet with him about this. Apparently they hate him as much as I do.”

The six months she spent during an odd fluctuation in time did wonders, but he also remembers her complaints about an exile claiming to be an ally. She doubts the veracity of that claim.

“And so, if I have to meet with Baelsar, I want to remind him just who it was who punched that mask in, and that I’ve only gotten stronger since then. I should look like the leader I am.” One of her hands curls around his braid, and she smiles. “So, do I pass muster, Raha?”

G’raha coughs. “I thought you were done fearing you’d become the Weapon of Light.”

She pulls away and frowns. “I’ll never stop fearing I’ll give up like that. This war will not be good for me, but I know now there’s people I can talk to about it. When it gets rough.”

Her eyes dart to Alphinaud and Y’shtola talking about something. Alisaie and Thancred mock-fighting. Urianger’s nose reading some scrolls G’raha knows has troop movements. It’s not just him who can talk her down.

Her hand fidgets with the scarf around her neck, as if she wants to get to the necklace of red and blue crystal he gave her the other day.

He quickly presses his lips against hers. “Knock him dead, Lin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The glam in question can be found on Lin [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EhBBfVfWAAY23XI?format=jpg&name=large). I usually log A'lin out as an RDM because of Glam reasons, but I don't always succeed.


	4. Getting Volunteered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clinch: To settle (a contract)
> 
> For Day 4 of FFXIV Write

“We will provide the Scions of the Seventh Dawn with 200 yalms of–”

Lin starts to doze. Ever since returning to the Rising Stones, things have been more or less at peace. There was the issue in Ala Mhigo, but that hardly took a few days.

And sadly, she had only visited Norvrandt the day prior. Nothing that needs her attention. So she tries to listen to those around her. The loudest conversation is an artisan with Tataru.

What she’d give to slink back to that flat she has in Shirogane. Not that there’s much better to do, but she can fall asleep in a much more comfortable bed while an orchestrion roll plays and.

“A’lin there is a master at all crafts as of late.”

Her eyes open at the sound of her name. “Hm? What? I am, but how did you–”

Tataru pokes her in the thigh. “Please, Krile found out from Alpinaud, and she does not keep secrets from me.”

Lalafell Cabals. No. Cabal. There’s only one. All Lalafell are part of it. There has to be a reason those two get along so famously.

Her eyes are unfocused, but she sees the artisan look at her.

“This is the master you speak of, but this is the Warrior of Light, is it not? I’ve seen portraits of her in reports of Ishgard, and the Ala Mhigo.”

“And lately she helped stabilize a far off nation by learning several crafts.”

“Why are you involving me in this?”

The Artisan looks her up and down. “How quick are you with a needle? A hammer? A knife?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the fastest, but I’ve been told my work is pretty good. I mean, I made these boots and gloves”

They pull her arm to them, running their hands along the seams and embroidery. The cuts and inlay.

“And how quick did you make these?”

She has no clue what’s going on. “The boots are my own design. I can make five pairs in a day. The gloves? About 2, given the way I need to work the metals in.”

The artisan turns to Tataru. “I’ll give you double what our contract called for, for the same price.”

Tataru smiles. “Any catch?”

“One quarter of what I give needs to come back to me in the form of goods made by her.” He gestures to Lin. “I’ll provide rough patterns, but she’s allowed to embellish them as she wishes.”

“What?” Lin feels more awake than before. “I don’t think–”

“Sold,” Tataru says. “I’ll have the money to you by tomorrow.”

She did not get a say in this. Since when was her crafting that good.

Fucking Lalafells.


	5. Empathy Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite Day 5: Matter-of-fact

The words eat at Lin as she works with Lue-Reeq.

“Hey, Lin. are you well? You’re not doing that thing again, are you? I think Andreia’s almost here.”

Lin shakes her head. “No, not at all. I promise you. Now we know who she was, how she beat the beast, I doubt there is much that could pull me into one. I’m just lost in thought.”

Emet-Selch is tempered. That’s what he said to her the day she stormed out of the Ocular.

And he said it in such a casual way, but every word felt so honest. As if it were a passing thought.

“We cannot suffer the tempered to live. Nor the Primals that temper them.” She speaks as quiet as she can.

Lue-Reeq’s ear twitches, but he seems to know she talks to herself, not him.

Gods, she doesn’t know what’s worse. What he said, or the fact that before he said those words, part of her hoped that perhaps she could sway this man to turn on his kin.

But a tempered cannot act against their primal. Not knowingly, and Emet-Selch is too clever, the ages of wisdom he lived through, to be tricked.

Whatever plan he has for her, it is not one that ends with him turning. It was always to draw her in.

Always with that same tone. The tempting hesitant looks that she gave in to.

She’ll fall for them again, but she knows if she gets one of those chances, it’s not in hopes of understanding the man, feel for him.

It’s so she knows her enemy.

She can hear the crinkling of leaves, feel the light of something despite Rak’tika being in the middle of a chill night.

“I hope those arrows work, Reeq,” she says She stands up and holds her own bow.

“I may not be as good of archer as you, but I know some good trick shots. One of those should work.”


	6. What's in a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first Free Day

“I won’t be here for a while. Maybe a year. Maybe more or less depending on time flow of the world.”

Lyna almost drops her tea. She and Lin have kept the regularly irregular schedule of spars. They happened as few as four days apart and as long as two weeks, but time seemed insistent to keep the flow of time between their worlds fairly close. Lin’s skills with Chakrams improved greatly, and she recently began to use a sword and shield in the fights. While Lyna may not use those weapons herself, they were one of the standard weapons of the Crystarium’s forces, so she at least knew the basics.

“Well, Norvrandt has been stable. You’ve seen this. Though I admit that if you aren’t here, we’ll miss the correspondences with those we knew from your home. Might you tell me why.”

“Travel bullshit, I guess. G’raha and I have decided to try to have children. I’m not sure it’ll work, my womb’s not exactly as welcoming as most are, but we’re both mystel, so chances are decent enough.”

Lyna feels a bit of jealousy. Not for Lin, but for the child. She was the first the Exarch – G’raha – raised. And while she was well into adulthood when he passed, she misses him every day.

“Of course, if we succeed, I’ll give you pictures and stories, and I’d love to find ways to bring them to see this world. Perhaps being my child would let them come too. But during the pregnancy, if we succeed, I’ll stay back home. To make sure. Who knows how my travel would work there. But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

Lin smiles. “When we started to realize we were serious about this, we came up with names. There’s quite a few for boys we have. We do have a few for women, but for the first girl, there was no argument, Lyna. We want to use your name, should you give permission.”

Names are powerful in Norvrandt. Not exactly magic for Lyna, but still a powerful choice to name someone after another. It’s always an honor, and a way to connect the person into the family. While she is, for both of them, she can’t hold back the tears.

“You needn’t have asked I know Grandfather and I are still close despite the distance.” Most letters include him insisting he should have done more during their last meeting. “But you say there is no argument here. You want her to bear my name, perhaps have her grow up strong like me. I will hold you to pictures and stories, and I hope one day she’d be able to meet me.”

She has a better chance than most. Viis live three times longer than most races.

Lin stands up, takes the few steps around the table, and holds her. “You’re a friend. Hells, you’re already family. But we both knew it better to ask. If only as a slight way to say we made sure you’re aware.”

When Lin leaves, she wishes her best of luck on the quest for children. She hopes one day, she’d be able to meet the mystel with her grandfather’s eyes and smile but bearing her name.


	7. The Obvious Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 Day 7: Nonagenarian
> 
> So named because I went for the obvious joke.

Alisaie doesn’t let up on training him. G’raha tries to call on the shield when necessary, but her timing on her thrusts is random. She is difficult to read, but such is why he asked her to train him further.

“C’mon old man!” She shouts. “I thought you had years of doing this all the time.”

He grimaces. “I’m not an old man! I’m... Twenty four or twenty seven. Depends on whether you count the time I spent in the crystal tower.”

She thrusts again, and he gets his timing right with the aethereal shield.

“You’re forgetting about how you spent a hundred years on another world.”

He calls his sword foward and thrusts himself. “That’s not me. Just part of my soul!”

“Yeah, part.” She reflexively parries as she drips sarcasm from her voice. Y’shtola says your soul is almost as dense as Lin’s from what I can tell. And it’s still you. Still counts.”

“What about Lin then? Isn’t she an Ascian? What about the whole bit of her finding her shard from the first and merging with it, does that make her old?”

“The Ascian died first and has gone through reincarnations. That doesn’t count.”

She breaks his shield and sword and points her rapier at his neck. “Now. We need to start from the beginning, old man.”


	8. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite day 8: Clamor

A’lin smiles as she gets off the ferry from Limsa. She has the echo, and is using it for fame. Fighting Ifrit and Titan felt good. Not the challenge, but something else, the smiles on the faces. Not so much because she was so good, but there was some relief needed.

Of course, as she starts to turn towards the Waking Sands, she calms herself down. She’s a hero, but it’s not the important thing. These people have bigger goals, and her bragging in her report would be a quick way to lose her chance to do this again.

And there’s something in her that feels good. Likes helping.

As she puts her hand on the door, something feels wrong. It’s a bit looser to the door, and angled odd. As she opens it up, a foul smell reaches her nose and mouth, she gags on instinct.

While she never lost anyone on a hunt, A’lin killed enough to know how smells change after something dies. This smells spoken, but dead.

“Aba.” Her voice is quiet. She turns the corner and walks into the basment where the headquarters proper are. She doesn’t need to press the rose engraving to slide the door. This one is full-on broken.

Her eyes first see a dead Garlean. What? A Garlean. From what she could piece together, the Scion’s weren’t quite as secret as they claimed to be, but she didn’t think the Garleans would be that bold.

She notices other corpses. Fellow scions. One was a friend of her uncles, was she not?

Maybe the side room was safe. Maybe it’ll be full of Garleans captive and--

And she trips over Aba’s body. His face tied up in pain and fear, despite the firm grip he has on his cesti even in death.

“Gods Aba.”

Every room is probably the same. She should head to the Solar, but her mind is on her Uncle. It was wonderful to see him again after her time in recovery. They were planning a trip back home after this. Why could this be? Who punishes her?


	9. A Grand World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 day 9: Lush

Terpsichore was told some time before coming of age they would be given the role of Azem if they so desired. Eager to prove themself to their instructors, they had agreed without thought.

Of course, it meant less time to spend with their friends. They had to read over texts, listen to vocal descriptions, of Azems past. Hythlodaeus even teased them about how it wasn’t their strong suit to be an academic.

One thing the accounts didn’t tell was how wonderful the world beyond Amaurot was. How colorful and beautiful. They love the city so much, but everywhere else became so much more amazing so fast. The people they met, they helped. Each gave them something new to learn, places to find, people to help, people who would help them.

Their own accounts back to the Convocation were not of things to fix, or ways this world was wrong, but of little things they find, such as a plant with beautiful colors that had interesting uses among those nearby. Suggesting it for Halmarut’s greenhouses, whether study or production.

Somehow a letter found them back saying it was little more than a folktale, not worth discussing, no matter how beautiful.

Some other letter mentioned the friends they made, how they call them Teri. How nice everyone is. And yet the response reminded them they were of the convocation. Why didn’t they use their title.

Perhaps it is little wonder that they broke free of the Convocation in the end, if their journeys were not like the other Azems’, their mind saw beauty where others saw pain.

But it is a beautiful world worth protecting, whether whole or sundered. They will do that no matter the life they have.


	10. But HADES~!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite Day 10: Avail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's Tales from the Shadows blended so well with what I wrote yesterday, I had to do a little aftermath of Terpsichore begging Hades for help.
> 
> And a few other little bits of their past.

“I can’t always take your side, you know, Kore.”

Terpsichore crosses their arms. “What was I supposed to do about the volcano then? My friends and I already evacuated the island, because I know you all wouldn’t. And half the reason the grapes are so good isn’t the cultivar, but the soil.”

Hades sighs. “You used to make reasons that were logical to save plants and animals.”

“And every time I got dismissed as sentimental and falling for folktales. We’ve been friends since before I can remember, if nothing else--”

He cuts them off. “We are, and it is little wonder us and Hythlodaeus are in such high positions. Our sight is unlike anything seen before.”

Yes, yes, their sight. Terpsichore knows it all too well. However, sometimes they wonder about how odd it is they were all born at the same time to families of Lahabrea’s student (or at least taken in by them). Three with the sight. Getting the same tutors and phantomologists teaching them about how to use the sight or studying how it developed.

It feels almost too coincidental.

It doesn’t help that they learned the role of Azem wasn’t to help anyone but the council, and it was specifically to make them feel superior to those outside of the city. Those who have weak creation skills, or choose to use other methods.

How no other Azem ever saw the world outside as they did confounds Terpsichore.

“Speaking of, how did you manage to get the concept of Ifrita? I believe Lahabrea told Hythlodaeus you were forbidden from using his concepts after the last time you used one to do something this reckless.”

Terpsichore grins. “Hades, you really don’t know me or Hyth that well. You seem to think he’d listen to the Speaker over me.” They reach into their sack. “It doesn’t hurt that I managed to show a material demonstration of what I was saving.” They pull out a smaller bag, with a bunch of grapes. “For you. I picked them up after I saved the island.”

Hades takes them, frown still on his face. However, he takes one and slips it into his mouth. “Kore!”

They lean in, watching every motion he makes. “Yes?”

“I-- I see exactly why you like these grapes so much. I think these are the ones our favorite wine is made of.”

Perfect. “Of course it is. I thought Hythlodaeus would have told you that. They’re wonderful fermented, but I like them fresh from the vine, too.”

“It wasn’t Hythlodaeus who told me, Kore. It was Elidibus.”

Terpsichore blinks at the news. How did he know? Oh yes, he was at the Bureau of the Architect at the time. He must have seen the concept matrix in their hands.

It wouldn’t have taken much to realize what they did. Especially given the censure the others had given them in the past. And the volcano was in a report they sent.

The grapes however, could only mean that he was closer than they thought when trying to convince Hythlodaeus (not that it took much; Hyth always loved hearing about their exploits. One day they’ll find an excuse to summon him.)

That said, there is a reflection between the two. When Teri was his age, they knew they were to take the previous Azem’s place, and took the role seriously, believing it to be an honor, not honorary.

Much the same as the role of the Emmisary. The Convocation of Fourteen is more a Convocation of Twelve.

“So, are you going to help me out of this mess? I mean, I did destroy the Ifrita I made.”

“No.”

Terpsichore hits him. “But Hades!”


	11. Not Here for Your Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite Day 11: Ultracrepidarian

Sparring with Lyna is always fun. Each time, she learns something new, both from the spar itself, and what Lyna notices in her patterns of attack.

Lin finds herself catching up these days. Lyna is still quite far, but this time, she notices her friend using more advanced techniques than before. A sign of trust.

However, as the fight is done, Lyna with her chakram at Lin’s neck, someone walks up.

“That’s not very entertaining.”

Lin hardly has time to disentangle herself from the position she was in before Lyna speaks up. “Excuse me?”

The woman crosses her arms. “You’ve done this for ten weeks now. I don’t know why people like to watch you two. It’s little better than the fighting you do against eaters.”

Lin speaks up this time. “Well, we’re sparring. It’s meant to be like fighting. What are you expecting?”

“Those chakrams are nothing but pretty dancing weights,” the woman says. “I don’t know how Captain Lyna, let alone the Warrior of Darkness, chooses to fight with them. You’re suppose to help others and be pretty. Neither of you dress for the occasion. The captain’s in her official garb, and you’re in those... rags.”

Lin looks down at her tunic and trousers. They’re not much to look at, true, but even at her most showmanlike, she still prepared for combat. Perhaps the clothes she wore as bard would be prettier, but she doesn’t want to ruin the dress until she’s mastered the steps.

“I can assure you I am far from the first to decide the chakram and fighting fit the style. And where do you think you get off on telling the _captain of the guard_ and the _Warrior of Darkness_ what we should do.”

To her surprise, the woman speaks up without question. “I’ve been reading books about the Naabath dancing styles, and they’re such lovely forms. It even says that while it can be considered a martial art of sorts, it is not combative. The point was to match movements, not fight each other.”

“We’re matching each other’s movements,” Lin says. “And might I ask, is your family from Naabath Areng?”

“No, Kholusia.”

She can hear Lyna’s hand hit her face. As if this is not the first time someone compained about her choice of fighting style.

“Then I suggest you back off. Where I come from, there is a form of fighting that is much like Lyna’s movements. It is why I sought her out as a teacher. Should you want a peaceful performance, I believe Thiuna’s writing a song for her lute. I’ll continue to train with the Captain.”

The woman huffs and runs off.

“That opinion is not common, for the most part,” Lyna says. “And the book she read is by a Voeburtite who travelled there. Several other texts make it clear that it was often used in times of war.”

Lin nods her head. There’s only so much she can do. “So, another round, Lyna?”

Lyna grins and prepares a new stance for her. “You bet, Grandmother.”


	12. Quitting isn't Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 day 12: Tooth and Nail

In truth, it was not merely the Zodiark decision that made Terpsichore quit. It was a final choice, the last song before returning to the underworld.

A very big last song, but still the last one.

For a long time, most of their time as Azem, they seemed to stand against the Convocation. Every time they tried to help others, even alerting the Convocation about what needs to be done, they were told to not interfere.

More than once, they heard Lahabrea tell of what they saw, what they helped with, only to turn the wonder they held into fear. Support into a superiority complex.

So they rarely returned to Amaurot. Found excuses to visit their friends when they didn’t find anything to pressing.

Only the necessary convocation meetings and a joint celebration of birthdays with Hythlodaeus and Hades.

However, while Terpsichore seemed to have their eyes turn outward as Azem, Hades as Emet-Selch turned inward. More and more he refused to help them avoid another censure.

More and more they had to fight to be heard at all.

Before, they were able to pretend they were one with the Convocation. Not let others know how they dissent with every motion..

But they couldn’t pretend any longer. Not with Zodiark. This was sacrificing others. None of them would accept it.

And now they have to fight the convocation still, but not with words.

They’ll fix the destruction. They’ll find a way to stop Zodiark, even if it takes lifetimes.


	13. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the second free day of FFXIVWrite2020, Day 13

Years pass. Lin disappeared for a few years, but Lyna knew she’d return. It can only mean that what she had mentioned in her hopes had come to pass.

But she returned, another weapon to learn. Many, in fact, over the time. Multiple forms of healing and casting for the most part, but after some time, she sets aside weapons and focuses on skills the Mean appreciates. She had done so during a time she revealed that the passage was unstable, but her skills weren’t luck any longer.

Almost a decade passes and for a few months, her visits become more common, but there’s something she plans, She asks for help from the Crystalline Mean (Especially the facets of smithing and gathering, but all have their uses).

Then, one day, she calls all the leaders of the Crystarium inside.

In front of her grandfather’s mirror, the portal Lin used to cross worlds most of the time, is an archway. It’s made of some metal Lyna doesn’t know, a handful of wires attaching themselves into the tower itself.

“Is this what I think this is?” Moren asks.

“It depends on what you think it is. Katliss and the Mean know the answer, as does Chai-Nuzz, given how they helped.”

Lyna speaks up. “This is a portal to your homeworld. One you hope will allow passage for any to travel.”

Lin nods her head. “I don’t know if any of you ever saw me look as if I’m speaking to myself. We’ve gotten the communication part down, but I wanted to keep it all a surprise for when I get to this point.”

She looks away. “I wish G’raha could be the first to step through, given how much he means to all of you, but this is untested, and we don’t know if my aethereal trail means it would work for me regardless of others.”

She flips a few pieces and gives a signal, her hand to her ear.

A few sparks arc between both sides of the archway, and then the area ripples to life, a spring turned on its side.

Lin takes a few deep breaths, but then starts to hold it.

Lyna finds she imitates the action. She hadn’t known what the plan was for months, but now?

Now all her hopes, everything she had written in letters, would come to pass.

A man steps through. White hair and beard, about an average height for a hume, though Lyna recalls hearing of a race that had passed away in the flood with that bead in the middle of the forehead. Another eye. Something about how they lacked a skill, or had a settlement too close to the flood’s origin to warn them in time.

“I told Nero we wouldn’t need to increase the power for a more stable portal. Everything Lin told us made me certain this world’s aetheric balance was not off any longer. I can’t wait to rub it in his face.”

The man speaks nonsense to Lyna. Who is Nero, and why is there an argument going on like that.

Lin chuckles. “I never doubted you, Cid. I will back you up when I return home.”

However, she turns to everyone. “If you have read the chronicles G’raha translated for you, then this is Cid. He’s the one who built the portal to the thirteenth when we sought to rescue three from the clutches of a powerful voidsent, the equivalent of Sin Eaters, but for darkness.”

Lin clears her throat. “And also the man who, in a timeline that no longer exists, sought to find a way to undo a helltorn world, wrote the first theory on how it could be done. Also my boss for the past few years.”

Cid’s cheeks light up at everything. “I cannot say much for the latter, but the middle point, I will remind you that apparently it took the better part of four epochs for me to write that theory. I only built on what you found of the papers. I will return to let those waiting to proceed. And ensure Nero does not try to fix the perceived power supply issue.”

It takes another few minutes, but the first to step through after Cid leaves is a face Lyna knows well from the sketches Lin frequently sends her way.

The aged face of her grandfather. Once upon a time, he was over a century in age, but had the face of a young adult. He’s an ilm or two taller, a longer face and wider shoulders, but the red hair and red eyes are the same. His hair still past his shoulders in a braid.

The man immediately finds her in the small crowd and hugs her. “I should have done this years ago, Lyna.”

She nods her head. Her arms wrap around him.

After a dozen years, she can talk to her grandfather once more.

“Now, I hear much of your children, I can only hope I get to meet the girl you named after me and her brother today.” 


	14. Ne'er to touch again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 day 14: Part

Lyna knows he survived, returned to his world.

Lyna knows she can write him when she wishes. She has his latest letter in her hand.

But still, there is something missing when it comes to letters from her Grandfather. His Vrandtic is messier than the formal proclamations she’s used to. Even when it was nothing more than his own private chronicles, the letters were distinct. It’s funny to see the change now in him.

Parts of the Crystal Tower are open for all, mostly the long staircase and the open air throne room where the Exarch’s crystal body now stands.

There are barriers to keep him from getting hurt by others, but when others are gone, Lyna slips past them and sits next to him.

“It’s not the same, Grandpa,” she says. “I know we both were taken in with work for many years, but she helped bring us closer together.”

She looks at the letter in her hand. “You wished to hug me back then, but you were too scared to, or too weak to move your arms.”

She rests her head on his leg, choking back tears. “If you must know, I wanted to do the same. I knew you had not long left. I feared it was the last time we spoke. My guards tried to relieve me, one insisting I chase after you, but I couldn’t.”

The Crystarium’s guards were spread too thin after so many quit to become adventurers.

And how few of those adventurers fought the spectral beings.

“I love you, Grandpa. The cake may not have been the best shaped, but it was delicious. I wish I had the courage to ask again the next year, and the year after, but you always seemed so busy.” She laughs coldly. “I bet you would have made time if I had asked.”

Maybe in her letter, she can ask for one. Her favorite flavors. She bets he’d be great at it now.

“I wish I could write so much of this in response, but I don’t know where to begin. I gues…” She takes a breath. “I guess I needed to say all this.”

She stands up. “I wish we could be together again.” She holds the statue, letting her tears fall along his cheeks. “I love you so much. I wish you so much luck back home.”

It’s almost an hour later when she finally leaves her grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the title is wrong, given my hopes I can do something with my headcanon ending from yesterday, but I don't think anyone knows it.
> 
> I adore the relationship between the two of them, and wish we got to see more.


	15. Never Any Easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 day 15: Ache

Old habits die hard. It had been far too long since Lin made her way to Providence point, kneel in front of the memorial, and talk to Haurchefant.

She has others she can share her hopes and fears with. Others she knows she can trust with her life and secrets. Her hand goes to the necklace G’raha gave her, a promise of the future. Another chance.

Still, Haurchefant needs to know.

She tugs on her jacket and walks to the cliff. An hour alone with her thoughts, trying to find the words.

“It’s been a while,” she says when she arrives. “I don’t think you know much of my journey to one of the shards. Well, the first part, yes. Up to defeating one of the most powerful Ascians, mentioning that I found a new paramour.”

She remembers she had the mammet with her at the time. Haurchefant had heard her, and was quite pleased with the news.

This time, he’s not there. She left him at the Fortemps manor months ago, and never picked him up.

He can still hear her. He only can’t respond.

“I’m sure you’d be glad to hear we’re betrothed now, though that’s recent. I suppose I should go back to where I last left off.”

And she does. About the changes in Eulmore, about Elidibus, about G’raha. Ryne, the Scions.

“I know most of me has moved on,” she says. “But I miss you every day. It’s not fair to Raha, I know, but I do.”

“I would never want you to.”

It’s G’raha’s voice that speaks up, His hands that wrap around her.

“How long have you been there?”

He chuckles in her ear. “Not long. I believe it’s interesting to hear about how I died from the view of a wonderful wordsmith like you.”

Her hands go to his, Both sets chilled by the weather. “I’m quite surprised you kept quiet so long. And I worry about that confession.”

G’raha kisses her cheek. “What? That you still miss Haurchefant? He was your husband, Lin. One you lost young, to a violent end. I would never ask you move on completely.”

“You don’t think it means that I--”

“Love me less? No. You love me different than him. Both real, both true, but romance, but different. And you know the tales told of you in the Eighth Umbral Era. They didn’t say your ability to win was your strength, but your heart. How loving you were in the greatest of times. If it weren’t a matter of months, people would say the moment you gave in and let yourself be a weapon was the start of the Eighth Umbral Era. When you stopped caring and did what others needed you to be.”

“Is this what it felt like when you heard me talk about your last moments in Norvrandt?”

“Depends,” he says. She can hear him almost purr as he speaks. “Did you feel an overwhelming sense of love when you told him?”

Lin smiles and melts in his embrace.

Her heart still aches, but it doesn’t mean she can’t love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny, yesterday I wrote Lyna talking to the statue of her "late" granfather, and now I have Lin talk to her late husband.
> 
> They have something in common.


	16. Core Classes Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite2020 Day 16: Lucubration

G’raha still doesn’t know how he got into the Studium. Was it that he and his father moved to Sharlayan? How were they even accepted in? It was before the Calamity, yes, but the city was so closed off.

Still, he’s lucky enough to get some of the best education in all of Hydaelyn. He can learn about Allag, and then pick up the skills and connections to go to old sites and find artifacts. Become a greater name, as befitting the eye he was born with.

His future lies in the past. The answers to his questions lie there.

But sadly, each year, he needs to start in more generalized survey courses. Literature of the early Seventh Umbral Era doesn’t interest him. Nor do the modern political classes.

He doesn’t mind the mathematics so much, but the sciences are the worst.

If he’s honest, it’s the instructor at the front. Too wrapped up in the universal kinematic equations and how they derive and integrate into each other early on. Now force and gravitational constants.

When will he need to know all this? Is he going to need to understand the mass of the newly rediscovered Crystal tower and how to accelerate it like this man suggested.

He looks over Krile’s shoulder. Ah, he misheard. Not accelerate the crystal tower. The acceleration of a gil piece from that large balcony halfway up.

Assuming the rough estimates are correct, since no one can get within a hundred yalms of the tower, and Mor Dhona’s weather oft makes measuring with an angle and shadows difficult. And again, there’s only so much they can measure given the forcefield.

His mind wanders and he starts drawing this building, what he imagines it looks like. Last he saw Mor Dhona was years ago, before the calamity. But he likes to think it’s like all the crystals that appeared in the wake of the Battle of Silvertear Lake.Long and spindly, the color of the richest water crystals.

“You know you don’t need to draw it like that in your notes, Raha.”

He blinks. “Hm?”

“For the problem,” Krile keeps her voice quiet. “A force diagram doesn’t even need a picture of the tower in question. Just the forces acting on the object. It’s in freefall, silly cat.”

G’raha blinks and looks down at the image. It’s nice. It feels right. One day, he’ll see the tower.

For now, he has to deal with scientific classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine G'raha would hate physics. I love it myself. The most he got out of it was learning how high he can go for his climbing to high places before he would hurt himself in the fall, and how to actually accelerate the Crystal Tower while dealing with timey wimey bullshit.
> 
> Also, he drew the Crystal tower correctly. Allagan blood memory and all that.


	17. We did everything right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 17: Fade

Lin doesn’t remember the Seventh. Not when awake, at least.

She’s not wholly Mneme. It took too long to realize that. Part of her is still A’lin. Two very different people, but they merged together, somehow. With the mix, she forgoes her Clan to all. They are dear to her, they raised her and she has memories of fondness from her mother, father, and some of her father’s other partners. But it doesn’t feel like home any longer.

Perhaps it’s in part from her travels.

Still, Lin tries to remember the Seventh, her time as Mneme.

Very little is there, however, Name, face, a few preferences.

Ardbert did everything right, everything asked of him.

Those words resonated in her. They had done the same before the world died.

But what was it like. The Flood of Light was not a proper sign of a rejoining, was it? Or could it have worked had Elidibus’s machinations worked? Was there something similar where they were from?

Something needed fighting. Some sense of an ending world. She knows that about Mneme. They did everything right, everything asked of them.

By rulers they hated, but knew well enough to accept the cruelty.

She wishes she could remember their life. Remember what it was like there. The closest she can get are dreams where she wakes up crying, wistful, scared.

The memories have faded, but she knows those final moments are nothing she wants anyone else to experience again.


	18. What Can Be Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 18: Panglossian
> 
> In which Mneme is about the opposite of one.

Mneme’s world is hell.

A family that refused to accept them even before they fully knew the answer to the question that lost them those people.

A long time forcing themself to learn and improve in magic. Discovering underhanded tricks they hated to use to but needed to if they wished to survive. (All while those in charge continued to use a name they never claimed)

The talents being noticed by those in power. Moving to a more comfortable life, finding a body that is theirs with a gift. Being accepted.

Only to find more and more secrets of the powerful. More proof none have any kindness in them. There’s those who lie to themselves, those who are honest about themselves, and those too weak to ever hope to gain control.

They became a figurehead in many ways for years, forcing Mneme to pretend all was well in the world, a grin as fake as those next to them (or worse, one completely genuine, who thought things were as good as they imagined).

Mneme began to dream of another world. One much different from their own in many ways. See through eyes they can’t control. There is comfort in them, though. A family that loves them as they are. Friends. No need to fight to survive. How much Mneme wants that.

Then the world began to end. The powerful tried to deny the crumbling control they had. Deny the hints that something was worse.

Someone had to do something, and Mneme denied any could possibly lead as well as them. So they began to try and fight back, or at least find answers.

Their dreams gave a few. Signs in that world also changed. Mneme wishes they could pass it off as stress, fear, but something makes them feel that it’s more.

It’s almost a mercy when the shift of the elements come, one overtaking everything, finally letting them pass.

But not for long.

Another stands before them, this one dwarfs Mneme in a way they cannot understand. Next to them is a woman, broken in several ways. Nothing is around the three.

“This isn’t working,” the giant says, orange aether glowing from their hands. “You need to wake up, A’lin. Please. My enemies grow restless, and I cannot wait sixteen years for a revival.”  
  
A’lin, that name is familiar. The name they had in their dreams.  
  
Mneme walks to the woman. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know.” The giant’s hands hover over the woman, A’lin. “She’s almost dead in this time between the seconds. But her body woke to my power after years of hoping it would, only minutes ago. But there’s not much time.”

Mneme sets their hand on A’lin. “Is there something I can do?”

The giant smiles. “You woke to my power. It’s needed in the coming fights. And you are of the same soul. you will join either way. But perhaps you can give A’lin the fight needed to stay alive. There is one near her body who can save it.”

Mneme focuses. They can feel the soul, how it mixes and almost sticks to theirs. They can fix this. There’s something in them that teaches it. “Are there any downsides?”

“You may be in control of the body, or perhaps your minds will merge. This hasn’t happened before any of the other times. I’ve always been awake on the Source. But your memories will be weaker than hers. They might not make the journey, or take years to resurface.”

They laugh. “My memories are terrible. My world does not deserve to be remembered. What can be worse?”

With that, A’lin’s soul attaches to theirs, and they fall into each other.


	19. Crystal Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite day 19: Where the Heart Is

What better option does she have?

Everyone is on the source. Ascians are hopefully on the defensive now their paragons are all gone. She had a wonderful vacation to celebrate those facts. Her friends roped her back into whatever Gaius needs.

So it’s back to relaxation. And what better way than returning to a place she’s considered home since she first arrived.

Lin tugs at her jacket as she looks up at the skies. Silver clouds dance across the sky as tears of crystal fall on her hand. She places her hand back on the aetheryte, sensing the new location.

Ishgard wasn’t great when she arrived. She loved it despite that for so long. It welcomed her when nowhere else accepted her.

But it’s become so much more, and it needs her help again. Not with her bow, swords, or chakram.

Her needles, her pick, her axe, her alembic.

She’ll be there to help however they need to work on this recovery.

She finds the aetheric trail and slips in, opening her eyes in a new section of Ishgard.

No. Not new. Old, but recovering.

And she’ll be there to rebuild.


	20. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Free Day 3.

It didn’t start out as odd to Terpsichore that her two best friends were born of their parents’ friends. After all, Teri’s parents, Hythlodaeus’s mother, and Hades’s father all worked in the same Phantomology lab.

For the same reason, along with a well-documented article of an accident before their birth, Terpsichore didn’t question how they all had the ability to see souls.

It’s not until she called on Hades to help with a problem that the question was brought up.

“Isn’t it odd you both have this same gift, Teri?”

To which, Terpsichore had laughed and talked about it.

However, their friends didn’t think the article was funny.

“That would explain you and this other friend of yours,” Hermes says. “At least, if your mothers were both pregnant with you, but Hades was born too.”

Ikaros nods his head. “Exactly, and all three within a moon of each other. That is quite close timing for three children born of the same extant social circle.”

Teri stopped trying to laugh off the story. How they never thought it was the case bothered them. Once again, they had been led to believe what someone else wanted them to.

Just like the constant rejections they had of things they saw in the wider world. As colorful without sight as with. Perhaps even more.

Hermes and the others once again made them question their life.

They never shared their suspicions with anyone in Amaurot. Only their allies they can summon.

However, it feels like a wall starts to form between them and Hades. He starts to take the Convocation’s side more often when Lahabrea censures them. Every time they try and hint about the coincidence not being one to either Hythlodaeus or Hades, they laugh about it. Ignore the implications.

It doesn’t help that Lahabrea seems to suggest perhaps finding partners, making children.

“Your role as Azem will still be there, of course, though you can resign of course.”

They had no interest in romance or family. And they wore the censures like badges of pride. What would the next be like?

Why did Lahabrea have such interest in them like that?

While Hades may not take their side any longer in debates, he can be a useful tool in some ways. Teri convinces him to distract Lahabrea, away from his offices.

They break in, careful to not leave any evidence, locking the door behind them.

Desks and files. They check dates, hoping to find something to reveal it.

Neither do, at first.

Thankfully, she knows that drawers have secrets, and Lahabrea placed the fake bottom on one badly.

They push it open, and find a log. A quick read is all they need. Dates, times, discussions with their family, and their friends’ families and other assistants.

As the others thought, their birth was no accident. Halmarut’s herbs, careful planning and consent.

Years of discussion about Hades, Hythlodaeus, and them.

How only Hades was a success in their eyes. Hythlodaeus’s temperament lost his interest years ago, though he thought Teri a perfect Azem, until they saw the outside world “wrong.”

They place the book back where they found it. adjust the drawer, and for the first time, reverses their spell. Find friends, and disappear from Amaurot.


	21. To Turn an Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 21: Foibles

“You summoned me, Speaker?” Emet-Selch walks in to his office as head of Phantomology. The young man wears his mask with pride. Unlike his friend, the wayward Azem.

What Lahabrea wouldn’t give to find a way to convince her to leave.

“Please, Emet-Selch, have a seat.” Lahabrea gestures to the one in front of him. “I have questions for you.”

Emet-Selch fidgets for a bit, but does so. “It is odd you asked me to meet here, and not in the Convocation offices.”

His office in the Capitol are not secure enough. Try as he might in the past, he has been incapable of convincing the other members of the Convocation to make thicker walls, stronger locks, Wards around doors to muffle the words spoken within.

“I had means to ask you about your sight. I figure if I’m speaking as a Phantomologist, I would rather use my offices as a Professor.” He twists his hands and wards the door.

“You have been wonderful at your duties for your office, my friend,” Lahabrea says. “And I can only assume your sight and connection to the Underworld did this.”

Emet-Selch pauses, unsure what to make of it. “They help, yes, but I feel my knowledge of the subject is less useful for this position than Terpsichore’s as Azem.”

“Nonesense. It is quite valuable to know the places where our connection to it is stronger. So we know what to build where. Not to mention you helped with my firebird all those years ago. Certainly you understand these things well. It’s very important, you see.”

The young man frowns. As if he questions the generosity here. “So far this has been nothing but praise, dear speaker. What is the help you wanted with me.”

“Why, I had been thinking about that event some days ago, and thought perhaps with your knowledge of the Underworld, you could locate places we can strengthen wards in our labs, such that it would not happen again. Perhaps check a few reports to make sure I hadn’t done such accidentally with a less suicidal soul. I would ask Azem, of course, but she, you know.” He makes a gesture of the disappointment she brought him.

“ _They_ , but yes. They are always away on business. Kore take their duties quite seriously,” Emet-Selch says. “Their means of handling the problems they see are not the same as previous holders, who contented themselves on awareness, but they are quite effective”

For a few seconds, Lahabrea fears that his plan won’t work. Then Emet-Selch speaks up again.

“Why, they’ve created an amazing conjuration. It calls upon friends and brings them to their side. I’ve been used a few times. Though their other allies are odd from what I’ve seen.”

Lahabrea can work with that.

His worries about her allies. And from there weaken his support of her methods. Bring her back to what she should be.


	22. A Hard Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 22: Argy-Bargy
> 
> I almost didn't do this one, but an idea came last night.
> 
> Also, I consider the gil we have to be funny money and tried to make something a bit more realistic-sounding for the gil prices

“Are you sure?” Lin asks. “I know you like to watch me fight?”

G’raha nods his head and kisses her nose. “I’ll be fine. As much as I’d like to meed Sadu. I saw some amazing goods in Reunion. Best of luck with your spar.”

She smiles, finds her mount and flies off.

Now, where was it?

He remembers seeing a gorgeous necklace the other day, while Lin looked for her favorite food stand.

Please let that merchant still be here.

Please let that necklace still be for sale.

He rushes through lane after lane, looking for anything that resembles it.

It takes almost an hour, but he finally finds the stall.

Before, he had thought the beads to be made of glass, perhaps even crystalline glass, but no.

They’re made of stones, if he looks at it right. Turquoise, he thinks, for the blue, and some sort of ruby for the red. He can’t quite place the metal that links the pieces together, but it’s something of high quality

“You’ve a good eye,” the man says. “To find your way here. This necklace is one of the finest my brother has made.”

“How much?” G’raha asks. “In Eorzean gil.”

The man chucles. “Ah, Eorzean gil. It has been far too long since I last had such an offer. But that is because I have not been to Hingashi in a long time to hear offers in several prices. Were it my brother, it would be for something only worth three tögrög, which was about 450 gil. Not even worth the cost of materials. He is lucky to have me.”

“How much for the necklace?” G’raha asks again.

“Given the time he put into it, and the materials, and some extra for both of us... 15 tögrög.”

G’raha does the math in his head. “Twenty two hundred fifty gil, are you mad?”

“That was the price in tögrög, sir. Gil is near useless here. I could use it for another trip to Hingashi, or perhaps Doma. If you have no tögrög, then the price doubles.”

Fourty five hundred. That’s a good chunk of his spending money. They haven’t even gone to Doma yet. And Lin wanted to take him somewhere near Ishgard after all this too. She’s been mum.

But did Lin not say that bartering was expected? Perhaps he gives a price expecting him to wear it down.

“I’ll give it to you for the direct conversion. Twenty-two Fifty.”

The merchant grins. “Ah, you want us to starve with your useless money. If I go to Doma instead of Hingashi, I suppose I could do four thousand.”

G’raha’s bartered before many times in the past. Both on digs he’s been to an d as the Exarch. “It’s a start, perhaps i can meet you at, oh, twenty-eight hundred?” A bit more than the merchant’s offer, but a sign of good will.

“Twenty-eight? You want me to have that little to return to those who use gil? Thirty seven.”

Apparently this one mistakes good will for dullness. He hoped to get it to three-thousand, but apparently, his partner went for thirty-five hundred.

He didn’t have enough room if that were the case, thirty two hundred perhaps.

“I see your offer and return with three-thousand.” His original hope. But if this merchant sees it as adversarial, then he’ll act that way.

It’s a wider grin that matches his. “You’re learning Eorzean. If you are so determined, perhaps thirty-five hundred is for you.”

“We can meet in the middle,” G’raha says. “Thirty-two hundred, perhaps?”

The merchant clicks his tongue. “You are sharper than I thought you were at first. I am certain that this necklace would look well on our Khagan’s neck.”

Is that a no, then?

“Thirty-two hundred gold, but try and give this to her before your business takes you elsewhere.”

Oh, oh yes. He forgot about the story of the Nadaam. Lin technically was Khagan, but she refused the title, passing it to the Mol tribe to pick another.

Other tribes did not honor that wish.

G’raha hands the money over. The merchant carefully wraps the necklace and puts it in a special sack.

As the day continues, he buys a few other small souviniers. He’ll ask Lin tomorrow.


	23. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Shuffle, day 23

She couldn’t feel better after all of that. Beating down Gaius. Saving Thancred. Breaking tech from millenia ago.

What could be better than a night in with the friends who volunteered themselves to join her.

After the far too long official ceremony. All the titles thrown her way. She finally makes it to the Lavender Beds, a large house full of offices and rooms for the group called the Marchers of Eorzea.

They have their own small celebration planned. One less formal. A lot of drink and some games.

“So,” Mekoto says, a grin on her face. “Warrior of Light?”

Lin nods her head. “A bit lofty to me. All I did was stop an invasion. It’s not like all the ones from five years ago. Has the term ever been used before?”

“I think so,” Ikarus says. “I seem to think there are other points around Calamities where such a title was given. But I can’t remember where it was I heard that.”

Mekoto grabs a deck of cards. “Now, I think we’re a bit too tipsy for the darts, though knowing Linny, she would probably still get bullseyes with her aim. So instead, I think we’ll get a bit more dangerous. You all know five card draw, right?”

She was prepared to stop Mekoto about the talk of darts (Was it arrchery, she would agree, but she can’t hold a dart for the life of her even when sober), but the smirk puts her on edge. “I do.”

“Well, my wife has rules about nudity outta our private rooms, so nothing like that, however--” she looks around, and focuses on the new girl, K’ome. “Normal stripping rules apply. You have one of the two weakest hands, you take an item off. Once you’re down to your smallclothes, you’re out.”

Lin raises her hand like a kit being educated by one of her stepmothers. “What if we don’t wear smallclothes?”

Mekoto sputters, looks Lin up and down. “Nice one, I know for a fact that what you did must’ve hurt like hell without any. If anyone here actually doesn’t, then if you’re down to whatever covers your genitals, you’re out.”

Arran groans.

“All in?”

Lin sits down and smiles. She watches as others do so.

This will be a fun night.


	24. Like the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For day 24: Beam

Call her sentimental, but when Lin looks upon one she loves, she sees the sun. Warm, inviting, smiles that bring light to the darkest of caves, deepest of oceans.

Friends or lovers, it doesn’t matter, it’s what she sees.

The fact she is the reincarnation of a being that seems to have been idolized as a sun deity in several worlds always feels odd to her. How is it she looks upon herself and sees nothing more than a tired warrior, but everyone else is a summer’s day, pushing her forward.

Haurchefant, were she brave enough to speak with him again, would probably tell her all she sees is her light reflected back upon her. Each of them see her in the same way she sees them. She uplifts and inspires.

G’raha has told her before than she inspired hundreds of people after her death in a timeline she severed. Her deeds and words causing them to look back and see her as a key to changing the world.

Those people brought G’raha back to her. A friend who became more.

 _See yourself as they see you, and that will be your dearest clue_.

A phrase Feo-Ul once said to her. Well, altered.

Every day, Lin tries to do that. See herself as the sun. A guiding light to those around her.

Not a commander.

Not a weapon.

Inspiration.

One day she’ll manage it. Not today.

Today others are the sun.


	25. A Dream Made Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FFXIVWrite Day 25: Wish

G’raha had never been to Ishgard before. The way Lin was welcomed by several reminded him of how many times he had read _Heavensward_ as the Exarch. Even meeting the author himself.

However, Lin hardly spent a day there before insisting he follow her to the airship landing.

“So, do you remember that place I took you to in the Burn a week ago?”

He nods his head. “You told me that the Allagan lab there was... trying to do something? Make land fly? Something about dragons? And Bahamut?”

She nods her head, a smile on her face. “Yes, it is. Among other things, a prison for the dragons of Meracydia, who tried to avenge their fallen father, tricked by Ascians to try and call him back. However, there’s more to it. Three other imprisoned primals. That I killed. But it seems something is keeping the power going.”

“It could be reserves. Do you know where this place is?”

Lin nods her head.

“Is it a stationary?”

It takes a moment for Lin to think. “I believe so. Somewhere north of Vylbrand if I recall correctly. But I wanted to show you more. There’s an Allagan Museum there. I’m sure you’d love it.”

A museum? The whole place must be one now.

It takes a few hours of flying on chocobos again before he sees the islands on the horizon. A large ship with chains and anchors to all of them, charging the power to float to everything around it. He can feel the ionization of the air.

Lin lands in a covered place, a landing of some sort. “Welcome, G’raha, to part of your birthright. Welcome to Azys Lla.”

He’d read about the place before, but it was considered a myth while he was at the Studium. And Lin had found it.

“Hm, now, where was the Fractal Continuum? I’m sure you’d love it. Even if I did... kinda beat up some of the exhibits?” She gives a nervous grin.

“Why did you fight the exhibits?”

“Well, the first time, I was trying to save a node Wedge cared for. Second time I was trying to protect an Ixal researcher who thought maybe this was their promised land.”

“It was,” G’raha says. He can feel the memories of his blood there. “The Ixalion were powerful creations. That some became spoken was a miracle that none know the truth of.”

Lin takes a few steps away, as if looking for someone.

Does something still work here?

“Ah, excuse me my lord.”

The words are as clear as day. Electronic.

A node.

There was the one that made its way to the First with him. He’s familiar with their tone.

He turns around. “Ah, pardon me, but did you call me ‘My Lord’?”

The node, one egg-shaped, with a strong point on top, chirps and spins. “Indeed. It has been three thousand two hundred and twenty seven years since Allagn Royalty last visited. What brings you here?”

Lin rushes over. “Ah, there’s one. We were looking for the Fr--”

“Excuse me, miss. I was speaking to the King. He may have gifted you his blood, but that does not mean you are royalty.”

Lin huffs.

“Could you take us to the Fractal Continuum, good node?”

The node chirps again. “I believe the Navigation Node would be the best guide for royalty these days, but do keep your consort under control.”

He can hear Lin choke at those words. He looks over and her hand itches to grab her rapier. A few seconds and she lets it pass.

The somewhat conical node introduces them to a round one with blue markings, the Navigation node in question.

It leads the way, both of them on their chocobos again.

“If you would put your hand here, Your Majesty, we will let you in. Please note, there have been reports of break-outs in the past few years. But I assure you, everything will be safe.”

He does so, and looks around. It is late allagan, when decadence overtook them. But still, the Continuum is an archaeological site in itself, ignoring the rest Azys Lla. Preserved stories and mindsets.

The first two hallways have signs of battle. If Lin hadn’t warned him about her previous ventures, he probably would have been more shocked, but the node’s narration does a wonderful job of filling in the gaps.

The third, however, is pristine. Full of plants and smaller animals from Meracydia, according to the node. Insects and a couple galago species rustle around them in the amber light of the Museum.

“I haven’t been to this part,” Lin says to herself as they walk around. “But it’s beautiful. How did you manage to keep all this going for thousands of years?”

The node replies to her. The answer, of course, lies in the energy of the warring triad, but also nodes caring for the specimens around them.

G’raha stops and takes Lin’s hand. He’s not sure why he brought the small bag with the necklace with him on this stretch of their trip, but he’s glad he did.

“Raha?”

He clears his throat. “Ah, when I was a boy, many long years ago, I yearned to stand tall as heroes of eld.”

She blinks. “What are you doing, Raha?”

Raha continues, his tail starting to swish. “But like a fool seeking to pluck stars from the heavens, my every attempt to reprise their actions fell short.”

“No, they didn’t. You are as much a hero as I am. Please don’t--”

He takes his hand from hers and places it on her lips, His legs feel heavy, and he falls to his knees, as he pulls the bag from his pocket.

“And then, one day, an all-but-forgotten dream from my youth stood before me in the flesh, and she told me I could do that. I can pluck stars from the heavens and reprise every deed. That she would help me every step of the way.”

He opens the bag and pulls out the necklace. “And I would give much and more for her to stay by my side every step of the way.”

“Raha, are you-- Is this--?”

He tries to stand up, but his legs feel locked in position. “Perhaps I am weak, unable to believe in myself without you next to me, but please, Lin. I know it will not be your first time marrying, but I would give much and more to call you my wife.”

She kneels next to him, kisses him on his lips. “I promise every day will be an adventurer as long as I can call you husband.”

He places the necklace around her, smiling at the stones sparkling in the artificial light. Elsewhere, it would be even more gorgeous, but this is good.

“Ah, I had wondered if she were a consort or more. This is the fifth royal betrothal in this very room.”

Lin chokes again. “C-conso--” She starts to laugh.

He joins her. He hadn’t thought it a tradition of his blood. He hadn’t planned on today, or here. Just soon.

“Now, if you two are quite done, I can take you to another wing. Perhaps the one with the Ultima Warrior perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used the narration G'raha says twice as a proposal. It's cute and it works.


End file.
